Family Dollars are popping up all over our state and I can’t stand them. They move into small towns, flood the populace with cheap goods and drive all the quirky independent stores out of business. There’s one in the town next to us and I refuse to shop there.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Facebook agree on anything. But the crisis in Ukraine has my far right friends posting the same images as my far left friends… and they all break my heart.
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I can’t even imagine what these poor people are going through.
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And though I know it means less than nothing…
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I posted that photo with hope in my heart that this terrible tragedy will be over soon.
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I could never leave my pets behind. Ever. Hell, I refused to evacuate for a hurricane when the eye was headed straight for us in coastal Carolina. We had 5 cats, a cockatiel and a duck, no hotel on earth accepts that. (And yes, the duck spent the entire storm in the bathtub. Safe, sound and quite happy.)
My husband has a weakness for health food stores. Does he eat healthy? Not unless I force him, but he loves to stroll the weird item laden aisles all the same.
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Whipped cream or whipped rice? That’s a no brainer for me, but I suppose someone might buy that sorry excuse of a substitute.
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I really wanted to buy this bizarre looking fruit… But the husband balked at the price. Good grief, it’s named after a hand.
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If that isn’t worth a little extra scratch I don’t know what is.
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He’ll bitch about high prices but then go get a ridiculously small container of freshly churned peanut butter. Probably because he knows I won’t eat it.
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Worst waste of money that day? This cleverly marketed bag of dried fruit. I love kiwi, so I bought it.
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They weren’t lying, it’s ugly. And completely unpeeled. Who the hell wants to eat that!
I’m a Led Zeppelin fan from way back so when I stumbled across this new version of their classic song performed by artists and musicians from around the world spotlighting climate change?
After a verrrrry long day at the antique mall from Hell my husband came home with relatively little in the way of treasure.
I was all for buying an antique wall phone to hang in the man cave and a vintage steamer trunk to use as a coffee table, but no. He wanted none of that.
His final purchases?
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An old wooden egg crate. Do we have egg laying chickens? No.
Moving on…
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The seven pieces of ephemera it took him two and a half hours to find.
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Did we need this classically decorated snake oil salesman’s card that claims to cure cholera?
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I think not, but we own it anyway.
Since my barn phone and steamer trunk were vetoed, I only came home with a handful of vinyl.
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Though one of my selections has a specific purpose.
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My husband went to Woodstock. The largest, greatest rock and roll event in history… he was there on day one.
For about half an hour. He walked around, didn’t like what he saw, and left. (If I had known this before we got married, it would have been a deal breaker.)
So because he turned his back on that once in a lifetime experience …. and kept me in that often cold and dark chicken barn antique mall all damned day…. I bought the original Woodstock album and will force him to listen to it. Over and over again, while I slaughter him in Scrabble.
Onward… through the never ending stalls of useless crap timeless treasure we went.
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Box of 1950’s risqué playing cards?
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Check! There were two.
Vintage hi fi speakers?
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Check! Two as well.
Absurd 6 legged patriotic corner table?
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Yup. That was there as well.
Because I don’t spend nearly as much time examining the junk unique items on sale as the husband, I’m always far ahead of him in the store. So when I see an area I think might be trouble?
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Like an entire room of rust…
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I try to steer him clear. But this time he surprised me and passed by the tool stall of horrors with nary a glance. We were halfway through the store by this time and I was lulled into a false sense of security that we would exit before dark.
And then….
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He found a pile. Actually he found pile upon piles of ephemera. For the uninitiated pickers among us, an explanation.
Ephemera – items of collectible memorabilia, typically written or printed ones, that were originally expected to have only short-term usefulness or popularity.
There were boxes stacked on boxes, files stuffed in drawers and a floor to ceiling shelf full of ABSOLUTELY nothing worth a damn. But this didn’t deter my husband, oh no. The more he looked and found nothing? The more he was sure there was something. He just knew an undiscovered copy of the constitution or Abraham Lincoln’s handwritten will was waiting to be unearthed .
I walked the entire mall three times, sat down and blogged for half an hour, chatted with other customers and read two old Life magazines. He still wasn’t done.
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I found old shoes that made my bunion hurt just looking at them.
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And World War II German mountain trooper boots I wouldn’t want to hike the Alps in…. but still, the husband wasn’t through.
After 2 hours and 38 minutes…. ( That’s how long he stood there sorting and sifting through stinky brittle old scraps of paper. Yes. I timed it. ) I pulled him away and gave him an ultimatum. He could finish browsing the store before it closed or I was taking the car and leaving him there.
Since it was a 65 mile walk home? He deserted his giant pile of vintage grocery store lists and life insurance policies and resumed browsing.
Have you ever given any thought to spaghetti? It’s not my favorite dish, but the husband loves it so I have to cook it more often than I’d prefer.
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Now I can’t stop thinking about all that back and forth. Ridiculous, no?
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten was cackling up a storm the other day. And no.. my windows are not normally that dirty, but the poor cat was positively drooling.
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That little red bitch is such a tease.
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The mere mention of Baby Shark has set that awful tune playing in my head again. If they’re going to roll out another equally as terrifying ear worm? We’re all doomed.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.